


at first sight of the sun

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Byleth & Jeralt - Freeform, Byleth is raised in Monastery AU, F/F, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Jeralt Lives AU, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Professor Jeralt AU, Student My Unit | Byleth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 11:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20488136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: — a rumor is, however; she’s a mere puppet of the church, really. Her movements were jerked and particular, to the whims of the archbishop. Is she a captive of the church? Nobody is sure. Rarely does she bother herself with a conversation, outside a select few, and never allow her to pick up a blade in challenge of you— you will lose and lose pathetically so.; or Byleth AU where she is kept and raised in the church. Spoilers for ALL routes. This AU is mixed pot of lore/information gained from Golden Deer, Blue Lions and part of the church route. This is so freakin’ self-indulgent but this doubled as a ‘Byleth is a student at the Officers’ Academy’





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So I haven't written fanfiction in a while, but beating golden deer route, i felt inspired to write this AU. I just had to, you know? This is unbeta'd but I'll be going through with a fine-tooth comb as soon as I can. I just wanted to write this and get this first chapter out there because I was so happy how it came out? Gah.
> 
> Anyways, yes this is a Jeralt Lives AU and a student Byleth AU, because I am a weak bitch and I love our dad, okay? There will be angst, don't you worry, but that's for the future. Also please excuse my bias for Claude-- this will be golden deer centric, with bits of the other routes sprinkled in. Also non-canon friendships because FUCK fe3h of denying me of a Dedue/Claude friendship lmfao. Also Sylvain having more interactions with GD.
> 
> I'll leave a note when I edit this. Uh, leave a kudos, review, bookmark, blegh. Love you all.

The purposeful footsteps echoed as they drew closer in approach to the chamber. The doors were flung open, revealing the frazzle form of Seteth, which was not an unusual sight. Whether fretting over where Flayn may be, who she may be with, or chasing down a Byleth who skipped her lessons, a common occurrence as of late, Seteth appeared without much peace in his life, nor allowing himself a moment of rest. But at this moment, he seemed to be a step above the usual worries of a stressed-out guardian.

No, rarely does Seteth allow his appearance to match his inner, more worried-prone self. His mouth wasn’t just in a disappointed downturn, usually the only sign of his misgivings. His brows were pinched, and the way his eyes darted across the room, as if expecting to find whoever he has been looking for, Rhea immediately knew what the cause was.

Jeralt.

Though the man was no longer his esteemed position of being Captain of the knights, every now and again, the archbishop would assign a mission for the retired veteran to handle. She could very well keep the man chained to the monastery, considering how valuable the skilled swordsman was, but it was cruel to prevent a warrior from his weapon and Jeralt has not dulled once, despite relinquishing his previous title for a lofty position as a professor for the academy. These missions did not risk his life, especially at his level of skill and efficiency; had he been a mercenary, he would surely made more than a pretty penny on his quick and effective work.

Yes, the legendary Blade Breaker could handle the occasional mission she would send him on.

Seteth informed her of what she already guessed to be— now the question she wondered: did Jeralt knowingly taken Byleth along or did Byleth stow away yet again.

Jeralt heaved a sigh.

The lip twitch would not register to an untrained eye. But Jeralt, while not much to brag, knew enough to know this: Byleth did not regret her decision at all. He squinted at her armor— a breastplate he gotten custom made for her birthday, shiny and clearly new, and… then some casual shorts with leggings. She had her cape, hair wild without her usual pink headband, and at least she had the sense to wear practical boots.

His daughter, she seen battle before. She gone on appointed and heavily guarded odd jobs of sweeping up some bandits, usually the struggling remnants of a mission where the knights took out a bandit stronghold. Certainly, he made sure she wasn’t like some of the nobility rabble that walked through the halls of Garreg Mach Monastery. Her blade hand was impressive, steady and carried force, to the point she was banned from competing in friendly spars with the students for a few years now. Her wits on the battlefield, from what he heard and what he saw was something to trigger a swell of fatherly pride.

Though the Archbishop, as of late, has been allowing her leniency and stretch her legs outside of the monastery (or, as Byleth quietly murmured to her father, her prison), Byleth was still stubborn and wanted more freedom. It wasn’t enough. The missions where she was babysat by the likes of some healers and archers as well as brawlers following up whenever she so much brought her sword down, if she didn’t manage to finish the foe with one swing… she was tired.

She didn’t confess to that, but anybody with eyes could see how much the coddling has been getting to her.

It started around when Flayn was brought to the monastery.

As if a mirror to her own status there, Byleth realized— for every step she took, the echoes of a guard. Tutors drowned her in materials of etiquette, politics and history, her schedule shifting away from her time spent on the training grounds. She was being groomed, but she wasn’t sure for what.

Often, Sothis and her would debate.

Such a strange little woman, that Sothis. She didn’t appear as often, flitting in and out of her dreams after a particular memory that wasn’t her own and sometimes, Byleth swore to this, she saw the progenitor god out the corner of her eye. The petite woman never spoke to her long, and often months would stretch in between their conversations.

Well, until recently.

Sothis did not like to be woken from her slumber, but Byleth noted the hours she was not snoozing on the throne within her mind. Sothis was becoming a more common fixture in her mind. Some in the monastery must think of herself as being mad, with how often she would zone out and share a quick chat with the goddess. Not quite matronly, not like how Rhea treated her, but certainly, the ancient goddess did not come off as a child.

Where Byleth lacked in humor and apt reactions, Sothis would sometimes explain in reaction and prompt her to reconsider an interaction that would otherwise go over her head. Even decode a storm of emotions that passed through, dealing a hand of comfort or a stern hand of ‘focus! Don’t dilly-dally over frivolous things.’

Even now! Sothis whispering in her ear, commenting on what Jeralt just mentioned, and Byleth had to flicker her eyes towards her father, to pretend that she was listening.

Something about…. newcomers to the academy. Ah, yes, the new class.

Apparently, this year was supposed to be an exciting one, she remembered Flayn mentioning; not just one but three heirs, each hailing from the Kingdom, the Empire and the Dukedom of the alliance. Flayn didn’t know much, but the academy has been abuzz for the arrival of such powerhouses in the nobility scene.

Though Byleth never met any of the heirs, she knew of Edelgard von Hresvelg and Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd— her lessons in politics ensured that of her. Claude Von Riegan was an exciting development, as Sothis gave commentary; apparently before his mysterious arrival and advocation from Judith of House Daphnel, Riegan Household was mourned (or celebrated) to lack an heir and soon to lose their power in the alliance once Duke Riegan stepped down. The trio were quite the characters, from the chatter popping in the monastery. Byleth normally did not care for nobility talk… but Sothis’s unusual chattering and Byleth, through bribing of a friendly guard, discovered Jeralt was meeting with the knight escorts and helping the students complete their journey to the monastery.

As to why— well…

“Bandits,” Jeralt answered, with a casual shrug as he approached the window. This village was so quiet and quaint in the late night. Looking back to Byleth, who sat on her bed with her fingers neatly folded in her lap and piercing look, so carefully blank, Jeralt could almost laugh. She tried so hard to conceal anything, which meant she was dying to know more than this one-word answer. “Carefulness, to the Archbishop, is a virtue. While these roads are normally safe, the uptick in bandit activity and the fact… some of these students might be my future students, Rhea thought it would be a good idea for myself to give a good impression.”

Byleth gave a small nod, before she pursed her lips, her eyes shutting for a moment.

[“Hm. I feel terrible for whoever will be stuck with such a crass instructor. An even worse option would be yourself. Could you imagine? A child leading a child— how silly.”]

Footsteps scraped against the wooden floor, before the sound of a chair dragging out accompanied it. When Byleth opened her eyes, her father was beside her bed, sitting and considering her, like he always did when he was trying to figure out how to phrase whatever was on his mind. Like this, Alois use to say, was how she and Jeralt were clearly related. Despite her fair-colored skin, hair like the shade of forget-me-nots and eyes to match, her mannerisms were so much like her gruff father. Stoic, considering and intimidating. They shared their inability to give genuine smiles and awkward habit of staring when words refused to surface.

Quite the pair they were, Sothis would state. A thought that would almost, _almost_ bring a smile to her face.

Jeralt tapped her knee and she jerked her gaze back to him. He chuckled, a deep and comforting sound, and leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms. “So… kiddo, will this year be the year?”

Byleth straightened. “Did Lady Rhea say—”

“Well, you are already of age… and though this stunt will not win you any favor with the Archbishop or your baby sitter, I filled out the paper work to allow you to join one of the houses this year,” Jeralt couldn’t wipe the smirk off his lips, watching his daughter perk up and eyes danced with excitement that fought against the usual stare. There her lips go, twitching slightly, as if it didn’t quite know how to grin but badly wanted to. “I have my eyes set on teaching Golden Deer House again. Those kids always been my speed, you know?”

“Because they have more commoners?”

Jeralt shrugged, “Yes, usually that. Though this year, we’re having an influx of some crest wielders. Still, something about them that brings comfort to this old knight’s heart.” Byleth nodded, a ghost of a smile appearing then disappearing as her gaze dropped to her hands. Jeralt continued, his voice dropped, almost conspiratorially, “I would prefer if you joined the house I’m overseeing, but, unlike most students, you’re given the opportunity to choose from the get-go.”

Byleth kept her eyes lowered but he knew the gears were turning in her head, so he continued with a teasing lilt to his voice, pushing himself to his feet, “Hell, if you get a chance, maybe try and meet some of the incoming house leaders. Working with a possible friend is much easier than somebody who you wish you could slice the tongue off of.”

Byleth cupped her chin, squinting at her father, “What if all three cause that feeling?”

Jeralt snorted, shaking his head, “then pray to the goddess that next year’s batch is more tolerable?”

His daughter was pleased by this, or at least he assumed. He couldn’t dwell on this, or this nice moment he was sharing with her, as a soldier came rushing through the door with bad news on his lips.

She shouldn’t have worn the tights.

It wasn’t often she became self-conscious, but wearing her own uniform, an altered version of the one Academy students wore, would’ve been better than the shorts and tights combo she gone with. She would’ve blended in more, though this was wishful thinking— [“You have an air about you that sets off from other mortals, child.”] was what Sothis told her, though Byleth did not have the time to parse if this was a compliment or an insult.

Neither her nor her father could predict meeting the house heads like so.

As each interrupted themselves, trying to explain why they were here, ahead of schedule and the near-death experience they were currently running from, Byleth took this chance to observe each one of the heads.

Dimitri— while his hair made her squint, badly wanting to mess with it and style it in a more pleasing manner, he spoke with calm and measured presence of a kind noble.

Edelgard— though her eyes were ever so judging, the white-haired heir’s confidence was something to admire and Byleth found herself listening whenever she spoke.

And Claude— such an enigma, from the moment he appeared, not unlike his status as the heir for Duke Riegan; his lax smile did not match the urgent mood, but it was strangely comforting.

The students’ attention, thankfully, zeroed in on her father first. Though she was not a young child anymore, the urge of slinking behind her father as the anxious wave of meeting so many new people at once hit her… the urge was strong. But she kept to his side, her face devoid of anything beyond letting the students know she was following.

Jeralt couldn’t stay forever. As Jeralt prepared the knights for battle to rebuff these bandits hunting down the students, the trio turned to her, and underneath their piercing gaze, Byleth resisted freezing up and shrinking.

Dimitri broke the silence first, giving her a formal bow and a well-mannered smile. “Sorry, I did not catch your name.”

Byleth opened her mouth, before her etiquette lesson kicked in and she tried for a curtsy and bowing her head, and she put on her most ‘respectful to stuffy nobles’ voice she could, “Byleth Eisner.” Her voice was soft, and maybe they didn’t catch it— Claude looked like he was about to ask her to repeat herself, when her father hollered for her to round up the noble house heads and follow him.

“This way.” She said, raising her voice as she turned heel and headed the direction of which her father’s voice came from. She can feel their stares now. But she won’t let the audience spook her; she was shifting into a mentality of a soldier— by the tone of which her father called for her, he might be requesting her blade. Whether to actually fight bandits or simple guard the royals, she had to be on her feet and her wits sharp.

She could hear Edelgard whisper to the other two, “Did you know if Blade Breaker had a daughter? Eisner…” Dimitri didn’t reply, and Claude made a noise, reacting with, “But they don’t… look related. Maybe he adopted her?”

Hmm. She supposed her existence wasn’t well known. Even within the monastery, the truth of her birth was kept a mystery to most. She did not often call Jeralt as father, and while he referred to her as kid, he did so with majority of his students as well. Besides, she was not the only child who ran around the monastery growing up.

Jeralt was mounting his horse when they found him. And with a grunt, he told her and the other house heads to follow.

“Some managed to slip through. We have to pick them off before they set any more of this place ablaze,” Jeralt said, adjusting his grip on his lance. Byleth nodded, glancing to Claude, who strolled up beside her and considering her just the same. “Kiddo, make sure the royals don’t go killing themselves. You three can fight?”

To answer his question, they picked up weapons to use— a lance for the prince, an axe for the heir-apparent, and a bow for the future duke of the alliance. Byleth had her sword, but flexing her non-dominant hand, she felt magic sparked at her fingertips. Hanneman has been teaching a bit about her magic, hoping it’ll allow him one step closer to figuring out her crest. Archbishop often told the crestologist that it wasn’t time yet, and considering the grilling the professor did with majority of crest holders? Byleth was thankful for the excuse to scurry off.

Byleth turned to the trio, her mind rationalizing what the best set up was; of course, her father would correct if her plan seemed risky, but… “Claude, stick behind me. You don’t have a short-range weapon, and between my fire as well as your bows, we could pick out the enemies from…” she scanned the area that they were approaching— trees! She noted patches of trees broken up by a formed path, and in the distance, a burning outpost. “Dimitri, Edelgard— you’re going to flank both my sides, okay? When I attack, you must follow up. Claude, if you know how to wield that thing, make sure to take any shots if you see the opportunity.” She wondered if Jeralt would jump in to fix up any holes in her strategy, but her father nodded along, yielding his horse to a stop.

“I’ll scout ahead. You know to holler if something happens, kiddo,” Jeralt said before he kicked the sides of his horse, “You three listen to her if you want to live. I won’t be far.”

Cool. Cool, cool, cool.

Claude winced as he watched the dirt get kicked up by Captain Jeralt’s horse. Though, the man wasn’t wrong— the plan sounded like a solid one indeed. As the arrow shaft twirled between his fingers, he regarded their mysterious fourth member. And she was watching him just as much, if not more, than she was watching the other two.

“After you?” he said, his grin quirking the side of his mouth as he easily lined up his arrow. The mysterious woman nodded, and while Dimitri frowned at him, probably having an opinion of how tactless he spoke, they were in battle. It was something to lecture on later.

Edelgard seemed just as interested in watching the blue haired girl now. But like him, she must’ve already formed an opinion— whoever this woman was, she was impressive. She had to be around their age, or she was blessed with baby-faced genes. He wanted to know more, ask more; there was something about her that drawn him to her, and it must be taking an effect on the other two.

The battle, under her watchful eye, went smoothly. Fire and sword, the combo was impressive; when her blade failed to miss, Edelgard was quick to swing her axe and Dimitri jabbed his lance. His own arrows sunk into the bandits, as they let out cries before crumbling in heaps of defeat.

Jeralt wasn’t far, and he dealt with any bandit to prevent the four-party unit from being overwhelmed, like a guardian angel of sorts.

The field was almost empty. Him and Dimitri circled back, realizing one of their downed foes wasn’t downed enough. As the two made quick work of the bandit, just as Claude was going to pay the blond a compliment on his handling of the lance, he felt an odd sensation overcome himself.

Dimitri’s eyes widen, looking past Claude and at where Edelgard and Byleth should be. In the moonlight and the glow of fire, he saw the bandit’s axe fly and sink into the ground several feet away. Byleth was composed and relaxing her stance, looking at her downed enemy, as she lowered her sword. Then she blinked, slightly dazed as she glanced at her hand with a frown before turning to Edelgard, to assess the imperial princess and her well-being.

Claude decided before he thought of Byleth as interesting.

But no, she was more than that.

And the other two thought the same. They beat him to offering up positions to work in their respective kingdoms, while Claude tried to ease the awkwardness emanating from Byleth with a joke about wanting friendship first before trapping her in the deal of using her strength for House Riegan and the alliance.

The flush that bloomed on her cheeks made him grin, and again, he couldn’t help the teasing tone. “So, out of the three of us, who’s offer would you consider?”

And he ignored the other two’s glares as Byleth admitted she would choose him. Jeralt shooed them off, so they could return to their classmates and let them know they were fine. Between the three of them, chatter started.

“I think… I rather like her,” Dimitri started, his voice a touch shy and Claude could make out the blush appearing on his cheeks. Smirking, he chimed in, “yes, she is pretty. Especially lit by the flames she created!”

Edelgard gave him a look of exasperation. “Typical boys,” she muttered under breath, before clearing her throat, contributing to the conversation by adding: “Though… her skills over the blade and art in reason magic is quite a combination…”

“You were practically swooning at the end, no, princess?”

Now it was Edelgard’s turn to blush, and like Dimitri, she looked away, grumbling his own name under her breath. Claude crossed his arms, nodding as he continued to speak, “I wonder if she’s a student. Or is she a knight? I never seen a young knight like her, but she _is_ an exceptional fighter…”

And thus, a tangent started, all three debating what she was— daughter of Jeralt? Knight? Theories upon theories. He couldn’t wait to pull Byleth aside again; he wouldn’t grill her, per say, but he had questions to ask, and seeing how she sided with him, maybe she already felt comfortable enough to let him poke and prod a little bit.

Claude smiled to himself.

He always loved little personal projects and Byleth just became his target.

Byleth, on the other hand, was kicking herself as she helplessly looked for her father. Inside her mind, Sothis cackled as she commented about Byleth’s sudden nervousness when all three turned their attention on her and she could only think _wow, they almost have… a sparkling air and quality to them. Almost unreal, and pretty._

[“You’re young, child. You’re allowed to have a crush.”] And that set Byleth off, waving her hands as she tried defending herself but only finding her sentences trail off. Sothis poked more, mentioning the Von Riegan noble in particular and her face lit up, causing for the progenitor god to start up her laughter.

_Now I can’t request Golden Deer_, Byleth thought. But her mind kept drifting back to the smile that managed to put her both at ease and cause her shoulders to tense up as a fluttering feeling appeared in her belly.

“Father,” she said, as she slid into the one-sided conversation Sir Alois and Jeralt were having. Alois seemed surprised and pleased to see her, while Jeralt looked relieved about being rescued from the conversation (and there was a little surprise too, maybe from her uttering the term _Father_). She tugged on his tunic, eyes flickering to Alois, before looking up to him with a flat look. Jeralt shoo away the man and his bad jokes before Alois could make her regret coming over.

“When are we beginning the march back?”

Jeralt considered this, tilting his head, “Well… we’re changing routes and taking a longer path to the monastery. Some beasts have been spotted by our scouts, so to put less stress on the students, we’re taking the— you know what, come here, I have a map.”

Byleth obediently followed, mulling over this… she was hoping she’d had time to adjust to the leaders, and her mind wandered back to Claude, now a mixture of dread with excitement bubbled up. He was going to probably corner her at some point; she could sense it, from the way his eyes lingered and a private smile, small yet complex, studying her as if she was a box, he was figuring out how to go about opening her up.

She twirled a lock of her hair, her thoughts drifting. Golden Deer always had eccentric leaders— it what made their classes the funniest to watch and most interesting to see grow. In her spotty memory, Claude was already taking the lead of the oddest Golden Deer leader she met.

As Jeralt pointed out the path on the map, she let her mind wandered. Funnily, she was curious about him as well, more than she’d like to admit.

Ah well, there was tomorrow. The two were bound to find each other, now that they knew each other existed. It was just a matter if this curiosity will be killed by finding the Golden Deer house leader insufferable or Sothis was telling the truth about her attraction. Her fingers danced across the map, and she pulled out one of Fodlan as a whole.

Her finger trailed the script that read _Riegan_, situated in the Alliance area.

Claude Von Riegan. Mysterious heir of House Riegan. And quite rudely setting up camp in her thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I do feel happy that you say that,” Byleth ended off, tossing away the piece of grass.
> 
> Claude smiled to himself, leaning back on his arms as he and Byleth took this lull in the conversation to mull over each other’s words and a possible secondary meaning to them.
> 
> ; Claude chatters, Byleth considers and Jeralt is amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> orz I meant to fix up chapter one, but i was so pleased at the response with the first chapter, I had to write up chapter two! It's not particularly long, just more character establishing and some Jeralt & Claude interactions here and there! 
> 
> I know there's probably some grammatical errors in both this chapter and the first-- thank you for those who pointed it out <3 I swear I'll fix up the first, just want to jump on the muse writing while it's still hot. 
> 
> Leave a kudos/review/bookmark, etc. Wuvb you.

_I should bail her out… at some point. _Jeralt thought to himself. Ale was in his hand and a warm meal, however, as the noon sun was high in the sky and the knights decided to take stop at a nameless village with too kind tavern owners. Jeralt had to swipe at some of the more pompous guards and knights, who took advantage of the kind folks’ hospitality and remind them not to drink themselves into a stupor— they had to continue marching after their meal was consumed and they rested their feet. He wanted themselves a stone throw away from the monastery by night fall. 

Taking the scenic route has been a nice experience. Byleth loosen up, as she always done, when she was far from the monastery. While she lacked the energy of the inquisitive and stubborn child, thrumming underneath the surface was the wild girl. Sure, she didn’t have branches in her hair and scraps on her palms, but her widen eyes and along her often showing off the spoils of her success with escaping— “I haven’t seen these seeds before” she would mumble, before she pocketed it. Ever since the monastery gifted her that little corner of the greenhouse, Byleth’s hyper focus on tending to her flowers and vegetables was something of a delight and ache in his own heart. It was an unknowing habit she inherited from her mother when she first showed interest, but Jeralt has since mentioned as much.

It was actually what lead to her other habit she done whenever she was out— gathering as many wildflowers and pressing them into a notebook of hers, where she marked in meticulous detail: date, place of origin, the name and what it made her feel. The former three, she always done with her notes, but the latter has been a new development brought on by Seteth’s younger sister, Flayn. A question that once stumped his daughter, as she self-examined _how_ things made her felt. Sure, the little green-haired angel sent his daughter down a small crisis, as the young girl often did with a method not too unlike somebody dropping an explosive on you.

The old knight still remembered the time he over heard Flayn mentioning her dread about falling asleep and the fits of anxiety that sent away his own rest, but double checking on Byleth, who been the one Flayn was mentioning her dread to, and both shook their heads in amusement over the fact they were kept awake by the girl’s words. 

Jeralt continue to wonder if this was one of those times, if he should check on Byleth and how she was holding up. He watched Byleth powerwalk her way through, her steps with purpose and single-minded goal, a path that many tried not to step in front of. And on cue, the comedic timing of the three other lords, trailing after her, chattering as they headed to the meadow— the field of yellow and whites that the knights decided to deem worthy sparring spar. At a mere glance, one would think the newly formed squad of four was heading there to practice _again_. And maybe that was the royal trio assumed, but he spotted the book in Byleth’s hand and knew… poor kid.

Byleth has grown these past few years; while in the past, she would simply walk off from a conversation she wasn’t feeling anymore and think nothing of it. Her teen years were full of complaints from nobles and monastery workers alike, affronted by this rude behavior and nonchalant way of dismissing others by dismissing herself. ‘You always said to remove myself from a situation before trouble arise. They were starting to trouble me. I removed myself.’

He gotten a laugh out of it, a genuine one.

Seteth and her etiquette teacher? Pinched faces and lecturing about the proper way to handle conversations.

Looked like their lessons paid off, much to Byleth’s chagrin. The flower pressing activity was something sacred to her, only allowing a few people to know about her hobby and even less are allowed to do so. Only Cyril and Flayn are on that exclusive list. She made the effort to hang around the noble, even going as far to name one of them as interesting— the golden deer leader and her seemed to just circle each other, like they’re in elaborate fencing game—, Jeralt knew she wasn’t that willing to share one of her more sacred hobbies.

Pushing himself off the bench and sliding his drink to Alois to finish up, he grumbled about heading to the training field. Byleth done enough babysitting— it was his turn to learn more about these royal brats.

Byleth didn’t mean to snap.

The moment her words left her lips, she could Sothis wince and herself feeling the licks of guilt, watching the confused and nervous expression crossed Dimitri’s face as he picked up her book. She was hoping they would ignore it, opt to focus on herself and her blade. Only one out of the three did this time, and she scowled at first. Until she realized one of them noticed her book and picked it up.

Byleth hated how often she was flustered by the three. But this was genuine embarrassment, rather than the strange, fluttering feeling she got whenever Claude’s eyes started a little too long or Edelgard’s smile took her by surprise. She sunk her blade into the soft grass, crossing the distance between herself and Dimitri, as she took the book gently from his grasp.

“Private,” she managed out, holding it close to her chest, “I… apologize, your highness, I didn’t mean to raise my voice.” She followed this with a bow of her head and taking a step back.

Dimitri waved his hand, trying to diffuse the situation a “N-No, it was I who should” but even Byleth could tell that some tension appeared in the air. Wouldn’t a normal person go on to explain why they snap? But the mere thought made her grip her book tighter, her eyes glancing away from the blue-clad prince to a face she found more calming.

Claude looked at her with a considering look, like always, but there was a little softness. Their eyes met for only a second, and in that second, she felt something. [“Are you asking the duke boy to help you?”] And Byleth realized that yes, _yes, she was._

As if hearing her thoughts, Claude did so, not even a half-second later.

“Yet another thing for me to wonder about, Miss Byleth,” Claude said, “But this isn’t the time. We did badger the poor woman to show us some her swordsmanship— is it not rude for our attention to wander? You ought to lecture us on our attention spans, teach.”

Edelgard scoffed. “Speak for yourselves.”

A laugh erupted from Claude as he nudged Dimitri, saying with a voice full of mirth, “Chin up. Miss Byleth is just protective of her things. It was an honest mistake, right?”

He sent a look her way and Dimitri looked as well, which prompted her to give a hesitant nod, parting her lips to add on—

“Kiddo,” the low voice of her father appeared, as she felt the ruffle of her hair while he strolled up beside her. She instinctively swiped at him, glaring as she pushed back the hair from her eyes— she _hated_ when he did that, but in a way, she loved the gesture. Most are so careful not to upset or touch her, and her father was much like her in the affection department. This was the one gesture she found that he would do, at ease, in a manner that reminded her of what a father and daughter should be. “Are you three still running your recruitment spiel to take Byleth away from us?”

Edelgard and Dimitri immediately looked down, flushing but Claude tilted his head, again with those green eyes, trying to puzzle out the picture for him.

“Well, she seems pretty loyal to the Garreg Mach. Now we’re just competing to be her favorite friend. Which,” Claude grinned, throwing a carefree wave of his hand as his gaze dropped to Byleth, “I think I’m winning. She already admitted I was her favorite.”

Byleth’s mouth dropped.

[“I like this Golden Deer boy.”] 

So, in the end, it was confirmed Jeralt _was_ their mystery lady’s father.

The two on the surface looked…. so, unlike each other, it was almost hilarious. While he wouldn’t call Byleth a delicate Fodlan maiden; he seen her arms, and never in his life has he been in awe as well as other more hormonal feelings he quickly stomped down. However, there was a gentle beauty about her. Maybe it was her eyes, full of expressive life that was not sure how to form on the rest of her face. Her hair was messy in a controlled way, but Jeralt actually messing it brought on a cute expression and her trying to fix it. It was that interaction which confirmed it to him; either they were related, or she saw the man in a father-figure light.

And Jeralt looked at him in a ‘this is my daughter, what did you just say’ sort of light.

The axe felt awkward in his hands, but it was what Byleth suggested. He was versed in swords, and back home, axes were more commonly used than easily parried swords that seemed to be preferred here. It didn’t matter, however, because whatever he used, Jeralt would deflect easily and disarm him with such a fluid motion, Claude had no right to be mad.

Jeralt didn’t seem overly angry, but there was an undercurrent of a father judging a suspicious boy; Claude regretted his words the moment Jeralt gave the response of “Oh? She has— you know, I came here to see what you kids are made of. Might as well start with the favorite.”

However, the bonus now was that he got to watch Dimitri _and_ Edelgard struggle against the seasoned knight while Byleth sat beside him, her hands aglow with faith magic as she gave commentary, her words devoid of any excitement— calculated and hilariously monotone as she voiced her disappointment at a wrong move Edelgard made with her axe or Dimitri’s attempts with lance.

“He is called Blade Breaker for a reason,” Claude supplied, and Byleth seemed to jump, her falling into a quiet trance as they watched for Edelgard and Dimitri try to coordinate an attack. She nodded at him; the corners of her lips started to cruel, but the will of a full smile died quickly as pulled her hands away. “Do you watch your father fight often?”

Byleth started to nod, before her brows pinched together, her eyes returning Claude. They sat close thanks to her healing him, but she finished that up minutes ago. _For practice_, she explained to him when she offered to do so, _a friend of mines recently showed me how, and it’s a good way to practice my control with my magic. Bit of a heavy hand for these delicate arts as So… um, some would say._ Jeralt didn’t bruise him that hard; sure, some scraps are expected, even at a legendary warrior holding completely back and treating them, what he imagined as, in Jeralt’s version of gentle.

Her faith magic caused for a warm feeling to appear in his chest, as he let her check to see if anything needed closing up. Mainly his hands need it, splinters from the axe embedded themselves as Jeralt broke the practice one with much ease.

A long paused was carried after his comment, but when she did speak, he could hear a pleased tone underlying her surprised. “Do you really think we’re father and daughter?”

Claude glanced at Jeralt; his form seemed so large against Edelgard and Dimitri, not sure if his legend was what made him so grand in his eyes right now or the fear that Jeralt put in him. “Are you not? He does call you kiddo,” Byleth seemed to wilt at that, so Claude continued, “_And_ I can see… it. You two have the same, uh, grimace?”

He was dying here. Really sending this arrow into his foot.

She considered his words, looking over her father, before she asked, “Do you mean facial expressions?”

“_Yes_, exactly what I meant,” Claude said with a grin, “Also your fighting styles are very similar. I see that you practice with him quite a bit?”

Byleth pulled her knees to her chest, frowning as she shook her head— was that meant for him? She wasn’t looking at him, but he was sure she wasn’t paying attention; her head tilted, as if considering something in her head, and he was about to speak again, when she broke her pause with a “No. Not as much as I want to.”

Claude crossed his legs, waiting for her to continue since she didn’t look like she was quite done. She picked up a blade of grass, holding it out before her as she quietly started again, “They… the monastery is particular about who teaches me what. Jeralt… _father_, for a while was a Captain and Head Knight, so I didn’t see him as often— it was especially hard when Lady Archbishop would send him away to long missions that would last for months. Then he retired, and became an instructor at the academy, and…” she pursed her lips together, before blowing a lock out of her eyes, “he became busy in a different way.”

She didn’t _sound _upset but those words weren’t from a child who was okay with sharing their father. He looked over at Jeralt, lecturing out about Edelgard’s footwork as he trips her up; Dimitri doesn’t hesitate to try and use this as his advantage but, hilariously, Jeralt just snatched the lance from his grasp.

“I do feel happy that you say that,” Byleth ended off, tossing away the piece of grass.

Claude smiled to himself, leaning back on his arms as he and Byleth took this lull in the conversation to mull over each other’s words and a possible secondary meaning to them.

“No— um, don’t turn past this page,” Byleth said, flustered, as she grasped his hand. It was a bold step, one she almost felt guilty towards since Claude managed to do what took Flayn a couple of months.

[“You’re happy, aren’t you, child?”] The progenitor god said with amusement. And Byleth couldn’t deny Sothis was correct— she was happy, not too unlike the feeling when she found her confidence in opening up to Flayn for the first time and the other girl flicking through her book with absolute delight. Claude might’ve understood the book meant quite to her, but for now, she can choose what pages he could see and the censor the ones she didn’t.

She didn’t let him view the first twenty or so pages— the ones that contained script not her own, but a woman she always wanted to meet, her mother; on those pages, she sometimes added her own notes on the flower and her feelings, but majority of them were her mother’s, in neat and stylized handwriting of an educated woman.

Claude respected her wish and paid only attention to the flowers she allowed him to view. He would give a comment that made her eyes unknowingly light up, before she pushed him to turn the page and ask if he seen this one.

“If I known you were such a collector, I would’ve brought some bouquets from Fodlan’s Throat for you,” Claude murmured, his fingers trailing along her note of the date when she was given this flower by her father. Byleth looked at him with furrowed brows, before she actually considered what he said.

And delightfully, her face flushed, shooing his hand away from the book.

“I’ll be taking my leave now, Claude,” she said, standing up and nodding her head. With her book clutched closely, she disappeared into the bustling crowd of knights, her cape flapping in the wind as she deftly navigated her way through the throngs of people.

He let out a soft sigh, tapping his fingers against the table as he continued to stare in the direction she left.

“You’re not wrong about being her favorite,” the low voice of Jeralt broke him from his thoughts, making him jump. The scarred knight gave a smirk, not even bothering to ask permission to slide into the seat across from Claude and— man, was the living legend _huge_. He didn’t get any hostility from the older man… but he didn’t feel Jeralt was trying to be his friend either.

And yes, Byleth and he were definitely related. The intensity of the seasoned knight’s stare could only rival the mysterious swordswoman.

Claude pulled a grin, trying to pull nonchalance as he gave a shrug, “Is that a surprise?”

Jeralt stroked his chin, really considering the boy and his devilish grin; a father would know better than to trust somebody who faked their smiles so easily with their only daughter or son. But Byleth was a woman coming in as her own, and she deserved the freedom to choose whoever she spent her time with. Admittedly, he didn’t mind the Von Riegan boy. He was crafty one, yes, but Jeralt fought a majority of his life, so he knew the worthy ally and terrible foe of a fighter who thought. “Yes. But also no. Out of the three houses, she tends to avoid most of the kids… but like me, she always favored those who end up in Golden Deer.”

Claude furrowed his brow.

“Commoners. And sometimes your nobles as well. While Byleth understands why nobility speak the way they do, she likes people who speak honestly to her and you do not speak like you were raised in the same manner as the prince or the imperial princess.”

Claude’s face twisted into an expression that Jeralt couldn’t decipher before a laugh startled out of him. “Because I was not.” Before Jeralt could question that, the boy already was charging ahead and changing the subject, “So are you planning on being the head instructor of Golden Deer?”

“Hm. You’ll find out soon enough.”

He started to rise from the table, but Claude then asked something else, causing the knight to pause. “And is… Byleth teaching? Or, err, will she be around?”

Jeralt couldn’t help the smirk, raising a brow as he simply said, “She’ll be attending and likely be in the house I end up instructing.” With that, he parted from the boy, who allowed these words to sink in.

Claude was torn— whether to bring this information to light with Dimitri and Edelgard, letting them know that Jeralt confirmed she was going to be a student like they hoped… or to follow the legendary Blade Breaker, a plan already formulating in his mind.

“Sir—”

Claude rose from his seat, jogging to catch up with the knight and Jeralt tried to hold the laugh down. While each of the royal pains had their interesting quirks, Byleth was correct— this year’s Golden Deer leader was an interesting brat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fear the deer! 
> 
> Review/Kudos/Bookmark, etc.

**Author's Note:**

> fear the deer babey
> 
> leave a kudos/review/bookmark <3


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